


It's Not Too Not Familiar

by iknowandimsorry



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowandimsorry/pseuds/iknowandimsorry
Summary: “You want to make a documentary about me,” Sam says skeptically. “And two dozen spray paint dicks.”“27 spray paint dicks,” Peter corrects, because he suddenly doesn’t remember what normal human interactions are supposed to be like.-AU where Sam is the one accused of paint dick crimes, sorry I just said paint dick crimes





	It's Not Too Not Familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rnadison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rnadison/gifts).



“You want to make a documentary about me,” Sam says skeptically. “And two dozen spray paint dicks.”

“27 spray paint dicks,” Peter corrects, because he suddenly doesn’t remember what normal human interactions are supposed to be like.

Sam raises his eyebrows. Peter adjusts his glasses and tries his best to remain professional. 

He mentally runs through a list of every reason why he shouldn’t have asked Sam at this exact moment. Because Sam is packing up the contents of his locker, getting ready to leave Hanover High permanently, with a look on his face that implies he could shatter at any second. Because Peter is an asthmatic film geek who had to run to Sam’s locker from the other side of the school, and he feels almost worst than he expected to be after that. Because Dylan has to make up a Spanish test, meaning Peter has to face Sam alone, without the buffer of someone who could talk to Sam Ecklund about dicks–hell, talk to Sam Ecklund at all–without batting an eye. 

“Right, of course. 27 spray paint dicks.” Sam hefts his backpack over his shoulder and shuts his locker, walking past Peter without looking back. “Dude, this whole thing is hard enough as it is without someone making a movie about why I did the thing I didn’t do, so as much as I’d love to be in an amateur episode of Dateline I think–“

“No, wait, Sam–“ Peter grabs his shoulder and Sam instantly pivots around, posture defensive.

“Dude, what was–“ Sam starts, turning red. “Why–you can’t just–“ 

“I don’t think you did the dicks,” Peter interrupts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I watched through the school board’s investigation, and I think I can make a case for your innocence. Really. I believe you. I can help.”

Sam’s expression shifts slightly. Wariness melts into confusion

“No one believes me,” he says, hesitant. 

“Well, I believe you,” Peter answers simply, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. “And Dylan, too. Kind of. He’s coming around."

Sam keeps staring at Peter, who’s trying not to flinch under the attention, an unreadable expression etched onto his features. Well, unreadable to Peter, at least. 

Peter feels a sudden flash of annoyance that he never got to know Sam better in all the time they’ve known each other. It’s not like Sam was hard to get to know–he was an expressive, easygoing person, more fit to be a Daily Show correspondent than a Morning Show anchor. Everyone liked him, and Peter could see why. But any time Peter tried to talk to him outside of a professional setting, he just–never did. He couldn’t find a good enough reason, or got distracted by another task, or Sam was already talking to someone else. Sam was usually talking to someone else. Now Peter wonders if he’d know what to say if he’d tried a little harder back then, if he’d know how to comfort or reason with or help Sam, do anything to make this situation more bearable. 

But then again, it’s not like Sam didn’t have the same opportunity to reach out. And considering he was the one who could walk up to anyone without breaking a sweat, Peter sometimes has to wonder if their complete lack of communication is deliberate. There’s enough evidence indicating it–Sam avoiding his gaze every time Peter catches his eye, acting uneasy whenever the two of them sat at the desk together. Of course, there’s technically no evidence confirming it, and Peter likes to stick to the facts. But he can’t help but suspect. 

Still, he can’t dwell on that unfamiliarity for long. The only thing left to do is figure Sam out as he goes. And besides, Peter figures a documentary about dicks is as good an icebreaker as any. 

“Obviously, you know, if you’re not thrilled about having your life on camera, I get it,” Peter says after the silence between them stretches out too long. “And of course you could drop out at any time, so if you’re uncomfortable with anything I do or–“

“No,” Sam says, and Peter’s heart sinks for a second before Sam continues, “no, I mean, fuck it. Fuck it. Sure. I’ll do your movie. Why the fuck not?”

Peter nods, trying not to betray his relief as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. “Okay. Great. Great, cool. I’ll–I guess I text you the details and we can figure it out later?”

“Yeah, sure, let me put in my number,“ Sam says, holding out his hand towards Peter.

Peter shakes his head. “No need."

“Wait, you–" Sam’s voice sounds so strangled Peter glances upward at him in surprise. “Why do you have my number?”

“I asked Randall for the doc,” Peter answers, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why, is that weird?”

“Well, yeah. I always thought you–I mean, yeah, it is kind of surprising. Considering, like. You know.”

Peter frowns. Right, the fact that Sam was friends with just about everybody in school except for him. All of a sudden, he feels a twinge of bitterness, although he has no idea why. It’s not like he was owed Sam’s time, like he had some kind of right to his attention just because everybody else had it. Still, he’s tempted to snap at Sam, ask him why the hell he thought he wasn’t prepared enough to know the subject of his documentary’s phone number.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter says instead, pointedly looking down at his phone. “It’s fine, it won’t get in the way of the doc. Everything’s really professional, promise.”

“Cool,” Sam says, voice once again unreadable. It’s amazing; for such an extrovert Peter had no idea what was going on in his head about almost everything.

“Cool indeed,” Peter says, finally looking up and slipping his phone into his pocket. “I gotta go to fourth period but, uh, what approximate day do you think I can go over to your house and do an interview?”

Sam smiles bitterly and shrugs, shoulders tense. 

“Show up whenever, dude,” he says with tired amusement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my schedule’s pretty free from now on.”

Peter winces. Yeah, he deserved that.

-

“You know, it’s fuckin’ weird,” Dylan says as he and Peter edit B-roll footage and interviews together. 

Well, Peter is doing the editing, and Dylan is lying on Peter's bed, playing with his Newton’s cradle. Peter doesn’t mind; he’s learned from years of experience that no matter how much Dylan Maxwell slacked off, if he wanted to do something, he would get it done and get it done amazingly well. 

“What’s weird?” Peter mumbles, squinting at his computer screen.

“That you still let me play with your balls,” Dylan says, flicking the Newton’s cradle sitting on his stomach.

“That’s not any funnier the millionth time you’ve made that joke.”

“Only ‘cause you’re a buzzkill.” Dylan smirks. “But nah, what I was really meant was, it’s fucking weird that the school board thinks Sam Ecklund would try this shit. I mean, sure, he’s kind of a smartass to teachers sometimes, but like, they don’t hate him. Not like Shitpiro hates me. Some of them even like him. I never thought they’d like, fuckin’ go in on him for this shit.”

“I mean, the evidence is mounted pretty heavily against him, what with the Gabi thing and Mr. Bales being in the bathroom,” Peter murmurs back.

“To think if Bales had just shit faster your boy could’ve been home free,” Dylan mutters. “No, but like, trust me, as a Wayback Boy, the evidence stuff doesn’t matter. The school’s gotta hate you for some reason to do this shit to you. Like, remember when they accused Spencer of starting that big-ass food fight a while back?”

“Spencer did start that food fight,” Peter says.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why they _accused_ him,” Dylan insists. 

Peter sighs and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I mean, it is kind of weird that there isn’t more uproar that a student this popular is being expelled based on circumstantial evidence, especially someone with tons of friends from–“

“Wait.” Dylan sits up abruptly, knocking the Newton’s cradle onto the floor. And tangling all the string, which will probably take hours to fix. Peter tries not to be annoyed about that. 

“You fucking think _Sam Ecklund_ has tons of friends? Did you mean he has ones of friends, as in, like, one single friend?” Dylan asks, tone identical to the one he had the time he found out Peter didn’t have an Instagram. “Did Gabi Granger grow another head or are you just fucking with me?”

“Am I just–what are you talking about?” Peter spins his chair around to look at Dylan incredulously. "Sam is incredibly well-liked.”

Dylan snorts. “Come on. Well-liked is one fucking thing. But friends? Nah. That kid doesn’t have tons of friends. Fuck, right now he probably doesn’t even have Granger, considering how all this shit went down.”

“Dylan. Come on. I’ve been interviewing people all day,” Peter says, gesturing towards his computer. “What more could you ask for as proof, I’ve got dozens of people on record singing Sam’s praises.”

“And how many of them are sticking up for him? Do any of these people believe him when he says he’s innocent?” Dylan shoots back, scooping up the tangled Newton’s cradle and flopping back onto the bed. “Sure, they’re all, ‘ _oh, I can’t believe he’d do something like this, he’s such a cool kid, I’d totally suck his dick or whatever’_ –“

“Nobody said–”

“–but how many of those people are going up to bat for this motherfucker?” Dylan finishes. “No one. Just you. Just you, man. And you never even talk to the dude.”

“I think you’re just losing yourself in your theory,” Peter says after a moment, turning back to editing. “Not all friends are as fiercely ride or die as you and the Wayback Boys. Sam’s an easy person. He has easy friendships. It’s not that complicated.”

“Yeah, whatever, dude,” Dylan answers skeptically. “You’re a smart dude, you’ll figure out whatever it is eventually. Here.”

He sits up and sets the Newton’s cradle and Peter’s desk, fixed and pristine. 

"I edited that footage you sent me a while back, remind me to send it over to you. Also, I got your balls back to normal," he says, doing an admirable job trying to keep a straight face. 

“That is ridiculously unfunny,” Peter responds, but when he turns back to face his computer, he’s smiling. 

-

_ **American Vandal Script Notes Draft 1: The Case Against Sam Ecklund** _

_ The school board’s case against Sam concerns four main points: _

  1. _Alibi_
  2. _Access_
  3. _Motive_
  4. _???_



_ Alibi: On March 15th, 2016, the day of the vandalism, Sam claims he was painting flats for the school play. This much can be confirmed - the drama teacher, Mr. Bales, can attest to that much. However, this is where confirmation of Sam’s whereabouts ends. Sometime around 2:15 to 2:20, Mr. Bales leaves to go to the bathroom, and doesn’t return until about fifteen minutes later, around 2:30 to 2:45. He claims during this time Sam was standing outside the theater in front of the front doors. These fifteen minutes of unaccounted for time, the school board claims, gave Sam the window of opportunity he needed to run out of the theater from the back door, make his way over to the staff parking lot, and vandalized the 27 cars. During the school board trial, Sam claims during this interval he was still painting flats and only left the room briefly because he thought he heard a suspicious noise, perhaps the sound of the real vandal. Even so, the school didn’t believe his claim.  _

_ Access: The thing is, not anyone could have done this. Sure, anyone can spray paint dicks in the staff parking lot, but only nine people had access to the footage, the nine students that worked on The Morning Show–a group I’ve taken to calling the Morning Show Nine. Sam and I have worked side by side on The Morning Show for years, although we’ve never spoken much, which is  _ _ [finish this part later] _

_ Motive: Sam, as the whole school probably knows by now, likely has feelings for his close friend Gabi Granger, which . It’s That’s [finish this part later] _

_???: not sure what to put here yet. I don’t think there’s enough compelling evidence for a fourth reason, but Dylan is sure that there is one, and I trust Dylan’s instinct. I mostly trust it, anyway. Hopefully it’ll become clearer as the case progresses.  _

**Author's Note:**

> askdnlvcsadplmsal


End file.
